


Torrid Tuesday #12: One-upmanship!

by Tkeyla



Series: Tkeyla's Torrid Tuesdays [11]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tkeyla/pseuds/Tkeyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Torrid Tuesday #12. This week's prompt was One-upmanship.</p>
<p>(I'm not entirely sure the story fits the prompt. And it's not really torrid. Enjoy?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torrid Tuesday #12: One-upmanship!

“Can you write your name in the sand?” Steve asked. His slurred words were testament to how many beers he and Danny had already consumed. But they had no plans to go anywhere, Danny already declaring his intentions to sleep on Steve’s couch.  
  
“You mean by peeing?” Danny asked, letting his head loll over to squint at Steve.  
  
“Yep. You musta done it in the snow.”  
  
“Huh,” Danny said, considering it. “My whole name?”  
  
“Not the Williams part. Just the Danno part,” Steve said.  
  
“No-no-no. There will be no peeing of Danno. Danny – yes. Danno – absolutely not.”  
  
“Fine. Fine. Calm the hell down,” Steve said waving a hand in what was apparently a placating manner.  
  
“Let’s go, big guy. Let’s see who can write whose name in the sand,” Danny said, carefully leaving his chair to tug on Steve’s hand. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Okay. Give me a second,” Steve muttered, finally uncurling to follow Danny down to the beach. “I’ll write Danny.”  
  
“What will I write?” Danny asked with a confused frown, his golden eyebrows low over his sparkling blue eyes.  
  
“ _Steve_ , dumb ass.”  
  
“Oh right. I’ll write dumb ass,” Danny said, laughing at his own cleverness. Steve did not.  
  
“Let’s go,” Steve said, unzipping his fly.   
  
Danny watched for a couple of mesmerizing seconds before rousing himself to unzip his own shorts. He shuffled a few steps down the beach, licking his lips as he concentrated on the task in hand. He completed S T E and half of the V before his “ink” ran dry.   
  
Steve had finished, admiring his handiwork in the sand. A perfect D A N N O lay just above the edge of the tide.  
  
“I said _not_ Danno, you big lug,” Danny said, swatting at Steve but missing.  
  
“You said you wouldn’t write it. I never said I wouldn’t,” Steve said, far too smug for Danny’s liking.  
  
“Fine,” Danny huffed, hands on his hips.   
  
“I’ll win. Every time,” Steve proclaimed, spreading his arms to absorb the glory of his victory.  
  
“Every time we pee? That’s a victory you can have.”  
  
“No. _Every_ time. There’s nothing you can do that I can’t do better,” Steve said, winking at Danny.   
  
“Oh. So you’re master of the universe,” Danny said, ignoring the wink. _It doesn’t mean anything_ , Danny hastened to remind himself.  
  
“Pretty much,” Steve confirmed. “I’ll allow you to remain in my realm. You please me.”  
  
“You are full of shit,” Danny said. He held up one hand as Steve opened his mouth to respond to that. “NO. Absolutely not. No more bodily functions.”  
  
“Okay,” Steve agreed. “What should I beat you in next?”  
  
Danny considered the question. He also considered why he wasn’t angry that Steve had asked it. Because their friendship was many things but generally it wasn’t a competition. They were both confident in their own skins, and their own skills. For all that they spent most of their time bickering, it was backed with the knowledge of their mutual abilities.   
  
Danny knew a lot of what Steve was saying was fueled by the alcohol they had consumed. Drunk as they were, what could Danny do that Steve couldn’t match?  
  
“Come on. Come on. We don’t have all night,” Steve said, crowding in closer to Danny. “You want to admit you would lose and be done with it?”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Danny said. “I’m better at golf than you.”  
  
“Yep,” Steve said. “But we’re drunk and it’s getting dark.”  
  
“Okay. Arm wrestling,” Danny decided.  
  
“Really? You want to go up against these guns?” Steve asked, flexing his arms to show off his biceps. Which were in fact very impressive.  
  
“You aren’t the only one with guns, my friend,” Danny said, pulling Steve up the beach to the chairs. He cleared the table of the bottles, placing them carefully on the ground. He put his elbow on the damp wood, waiting. “Let’s go.”  
  
Steve laughed and sat in his chair, grabbing hold of Danny’s hand. “On three.”  
  
“On three,” Danny agreed.   
  
Steve was able to press Danny’s arm down a quarter of the way, Danny smirking the entire time.  
  
“You ready to concede?” Steve asked, working up a sweat in an effort to force Danny’s arm all the way down.  
  
“Nope,” Danny said, tightening his muscles and regaining the ground he’d lost. Slowly and without Steve being able to stop it, Danny pushed until Steve’s arm was twisted almost parallel to the table. “Concede.”  
  
“No,” Steve grunted, pushing up with all his strength. But he couldn’t budge Danny’s arm.   
  
“Concede before I have to take you back to the doctor because you dislocated your shoulder again.”  
  
“Not going to happen,” Steve gritted out. His face was turning red from the strain, his teeth grinding hard enough for Danny to hear.  
  
“Fine,” Danny said. With one last effort, he flattened Steve’s arm, releasing him as soon as victory was certain. “Ha.”  
  
“You cheated,” Steve claimed, shaking out his arm. He reached down with his left hand for two beers, giving one of Danny.  
  
“How? How did I cheat?” Danny asked, confident and smug because he’d earned it.  
  
“I don’t know. But I’m sure you did.”  
  
“ _You_ are a sore loser,” Danny announced.  
  
“That’s because I don’t have much practice,” Steve informed him.  
  
“Oh my God. Are we having an arrogance competition now? Because you would definitely win at that.”  
  
“I’m arrogant enough to know I’ve laid more women,” Steve said.  
  
“Of course you have. You were in the Army. I was married,” Danny reminded him.  
  
“Navy. We could go to a bar right now and I could have any woman there,” Steve claimed.  
  
“You think I don’t know that?”  
  
“You wouldn’t leave alone,” Steve assured him.  
  
“Thank you. But I thought this was about who would win, generally,” Danny said, swirling his hand.  
  
“Too bad we’re so drunk,” Steve said, considering it. “There’s only so many things we can do in this state.”  
  
“Let’s go play your Xbox. I’ll kick your ass in any game you pick,” Danny said.  
  
“You wish,” Steve retorted, standing up and helping Danny gather their remains. They stumbled up to the house and into the living room. Steve searched out his game cartridges, showing them to Danny. “Which one do you want to lose?”  
  
Danny studied them for a moment before picking the aerial WWII dogfight game _A Need For Speed._  
  
“Oh you’re definitely going down,” Steve warned, inserting it and giving Danny his controller.   
  
“We shall see,” Danny said, testing out the buttons. “We shall see.”  
  
“I can fly the real thing. No way you can out fly me in a sim.”  
  
“Shut up and press start,” Danny said, concentrating on the screen. When he was confident which of the planes was his, he flew it in and out, up and down, through clouds, very soon blowing Steve’s plane out of the sky. “Who can’t lose?” Danny asked.   
  
Steve was frowning at the screen, trying to figure out what had happened. “Switch controllers.”  
  
“Won’t matter,” Danny said, trading with him. “Press start.”  
  
The second match lasted twice as long as the first. It came to the same end, with Steve’s plane engulfed in flames before it hit the ground nose first.  
  
“Still think it’s the controller?” Danny asked with a smirk.  
  
“Stop gloating,” Steve said, going to the console and putting in a different flying sim game. “I’m top scorer on this one.”  
  
“For now, my friend,” Danny said, picking up his controller with his right hand as he drank from his beer with his left.  
  
“You ready to have your ass handed to you?” Steve asked.  
  
“Press start,” Danny replied. This game was a little harder and took much longer but Danny still triumphed in the end.  
  
“This makes no sense,” Steve complained. “I can fly a real plane. You’ll barely step foot on one. But you destroyed me.”  
  
“Superior eye-hand coordination,” Danny said. “I’m aces at video games.”  
  
“Misspent youth is what I call it,” Steve said.  
  
“Whatever. I told you I reached triple banana but you wouldn’t believe me.”  
  
“Now I do. One more,” Steve said, going back to the box.  
  
“Won’t matter. I’ll still win,” Danny told him. His confidence was well earned but no less irritating to Steve.  
  
“Driving. You suck at it.”  
  
“How would you know? You never let me drive my own car,” Danny said, testing out the controls for his car. “I’m blue, right?”  
  
“Yep. I’m fire engine red. Soon to be a blur, with you in my rear view mirror.”  
  
“Not going to happen,” Danny said as Steve started the race. Their cars were neck and neck until Danny pulled a slick move up the wall that put him in front of Steve’s car. He pulled away, Steve driving in his customary madman fashion to try and catch up.  
  
When the dust cleared and the checkered flag came down, Danny was four car-lengths ahead of Steve.   
  
“Misspent youth,” Steve grumbled, putting his controller down on the coffee table.  
  
“Unparalleled eye-hand coordination,” Danny countered. He leaned closer to Steve, giving him a shove. “Go to bed. You’re drunk and pouty.”  
  
“I am not pouty,” Steve said, frowning at Danny.   
  
“Okay. But you’re still drunk. Go to bed so I can,” Danny said. He went to the closet where Steve stored the blankets and pillows that Danny used whenever he stayed over.   
  
“I can’t believe it,” Steve said, helping Danny spread out the blankets.  
  
“Clearly,” Danny said. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, turning him toward the stairs. “Go to bed. Things will be less traumatic in the morning.”  
  
“I’m not traumatized,” Steve said, allowing Danny to push him bodily toward the steps.  
  
“Go to bed anyway.”  
  
“Fine,” Steve said, clumping up the stairs. “’Night Danno,” he said from the balcony.  
  
“’Night Steve. Wake me when there’s coffee.”  
  
Steve snorted and went on to his bedroom.  
  
~0~  
  
“Hey,” Steve’s voice said some indeterminate time later.  
  
Danny lowered his blanket to squint at Steve where he sat on the edge of the couch. The windows were still black, the only light coming from the upstairs hallway. “What? What do you want? It’s….” he reached over for Steve’s wrist, checking his watch. “It’s 2:30 in the morning, babe.”  
  
“I know,” Steve said, taking his arm back. “I can masturbate longer without coming.”  
  
“What?” Danny said, sitting up. He put a hand to Steve’s forehead. “Are you feverish? High?? Still drunk?”  
  
“No,” Steve said. “I’ll last longer than you.”  
  
“Steve,” Danny said, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry it upsets you that I beat you at the video games. You are still way better at plenty of things than me.”  
  
“Apparently not,” Steve mumbled.  
  
“Hand-to-hand combat. Accurately shooting high powered rifles. Surfing. Swimming. Running. Even walking.”  
  
“But you beat me in arm wrestling.”  
  
“That was physics. I used your greater mass against you. And I do work out,” Danny reminded him.  
  
“I’m not the only one with guns for arms,” Steve agreed, appraising the parts of Danny he could see.  
  
“What’s this really about, babe? Your ego is not so fragile.”  
  
Steve shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. “I just thought…”  
  
“That I’m a 90 pound weakling and you are Super SEAL,” Danny finished for him when he stopped.  
  
“No,” Steve said.  
  
“Really?” Danny challenged.   
  
“Maybe a little,” Steve conceded. “I’m not used to losing.”  
  
“I do know that,” Danny said. “And your secret will be safe with me.”  
  
Steve sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Danny assured him as he stood up. “Will you be able to sleep now?”  
  
“I was asleep. I had to get up to pee.”  
  
“You didn’t write my name in the sand again, did you?” Danny laughed up at him.  
  
“No,” Steve said, looking down at Danny, a considering expression on his face.  
  
“What?” Danny prompted.  
  
Steve shook his head and reluctantly turned toward the stairs. “’Night Danno.”  
  
“’Night babe,” Danny replied, watching him go back upstairs. Danny had a pretty good idea what the real problem was. He just didn’t know if he was brave enough to suggest the solution.  
  
He lay in the dark of the living room, replaying the night’s events. If he looked at it from a detective’s view point, he could see the evidence outlined in neon. Did Steve see it too? If Danny acted on it, would Steve reciprocate or would he punch Danny’s lights out?  
  
Danny decided there was only one way to find out which way it would go. He slipped out from between the blankets and peeled off his clothes. The light in the upstairs hallway was still on, the door to Steve’s bedroom standing open. Steve was laying crossways face down, mile-long arms and legs seemingly everywhere.  
  
“Hey,” Danny said quietly as he crossed over to the bed.  
  
“Hey,” Steve said, twisting his head to peer over his shoulder. At the sight of him, Steve’s stopped breathing, his eyes growing huge. “Heeyyy.”  
  
“This is what it’s really about, isn’t it?” Danny said, smiling down at him. “You and me. Us.”  
  
“Is there an _us_?” Steve asked, rolling over to sit up. He reached one tentative hand out to rest it on Danny’s belly.  
  
“There always has been. This is the inevitable next step,” Danny said, leaning into Steve’s hand.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, looking up to catch Danny’s eyes. “Yeah. Inevitable.”  
  
“Get naked. I’ll let you top. Even though I’ve never done this before,” Danny said, hauling him to his feet.  
  
“What makes you think I have?” Steve asked as Danny pulled his faded tank over his head.  
  
“Have you?” Danny asked, reaching for the string holding up Steve’s soft sleep pants.  
  
“Yes,” Steve admitted, leaning closer to Danny once his pants were crumbled around his ankles.   
  
“Then that’s one contest you win,” Danny said, standing up on his toes to kiss Steve.   
  
“ _This_ isn’t about winning.”  
  
“It’s about winning you,” Danny corrected, crowding Steve up against the bed. “I have, haven’t I? Won you?”  
  
“We’ve won each other,” Steve said, sprawling on the bed and bringing Danny down with him.   
  
“Yea us,” Danny said, kissing Steve in shared triumph.


End file.
